


Lost in You

by loviedovielou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Drinking, Explicit Language, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Past Louis Tomlinson/Nick Grimshaw - Freeform, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loviedovielou/pseuds/loviedovielou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is nineteen and thinks kissing is weird. This is his first problem, but certainly not his last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello! First off I want to thank my incredible beta reader [Erin](http://sickwithlarryngitis.tumblr.com/) who did a wonderful job at pointing out all my crappy embarrassing mistakes and basically saved my life. You're the best :) 
> 
> And I also want to thank the mods over at [1dsmutfree](http://1dsmutfree.tumblr.com/) for arranging this whole ficathon. Kudos to you guys!
> 
> Enjoy xoxo

It’s a Thursday night and Harry is working on his fourth beer as he stands among a large, sweaty crowd celebrating Niall’s 21st birthday.

The music is blaring so loud Harry can feel the bass vibrating through his chest. He swallows hard, his bony fingers clenching around the cold glass bottle in his hand. He doesn't like this feeling. He never has. But he does his best to deal with it because he knows Niall will be bothered if he leaves early—if you count two a.m. as early, that is—and Harry can't have that. So he downs some more of his beer and excuses his way through the crowd until he reaches the staircase.

He climbs about half way up, as far away from the speakers as he can get without disappearing to the second floor, and settles on a step. Leaning his back against the wall, he stretches his legs out in front of him and sincerely hopes nobody trips over them.

He begins to feel lighter after he finishes his fourth beer. He thinks that might be a good thing but isn't sure, considering this is only his second attempt at drinking ever, but tonight it's a goal of Harry's to get properly drunk and he seems to be right on track…if only he had another beer.

"Harry, mate, what're you doing up there?" Zayn appears at the bottom of the steps with amusement gleaming in his eyes.

"I don't know," Harry says. It isn't the truth, but he would feel lame admitting otherwise.

Zayn extends his hand. "Well, c'mon, the lads are waiting for us outside to smoke."

Harry's lips twitch into a small smile as he rises. "Cigarettes are gross," he says, meeting Zayn at the bottom. He takes Zayn's hand and squeezes it, as if to say 'thanks for not forgetting about me'. He doesn't think Zayn notices, but that's okay.

"Not cigarettes, mate. The other stuff." He grins. "Oh and here, I don't want this anymore." He thrusts a red plastic cup towards Harry.

"What is it?" Harry brings it up to his nose and his face contorts from how strong it smells.

"Just vodka and some energy drink Liam bought," Zayn shrugs, pulling him along. "I don't know. It doesn't taste bad, trust me."

Harry shoves his hesitance away and takes a sip as they detour around the large crowd and slip outside into a colder atmosphere. The mixture is sour, but not bad. Harry thinks he likes it, or at least he'll learn to the more he sips.

His mates have gathered by the swimming pool in a small, tight circle. Harry wedges himself between Niall and Liam, and grins around the curve of his cup as Niall swings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close. "Where've you been, H?"

"Around," Harry replies, setting his cup down.

Niall squeezes his shoulder and says, "Thanks for coming tonight. I know you don't like parties and all that, but really, thanks."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Niall."

Niall kisses his head and Harry tries to stop his cheeks from flushing as they turn their attention back to their friends. Zayn retrieves a joint from his cigarette pack and tells each of them that they are to take one hit a turn, tacking on, "and Louis, you only get two hits total 'cause you're a greedy bastard” at the end.

The group seems to crack up at that, except Louis who looks downright offended. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket and tosses it at Zayn, wearing a shark's grin. "Oh, piss off, Malik."

Harry bites his lip to keep from smiling too big as his eyes curiously drift over to Louis. Strangely enough, he hasn't had much of a conversation with the guy even though they run in the same circles and see each other frequently. And even stranger, Louis shares this house with Zayn, Niall, and Liam, so you’d think he and Harry would have run into each other by now, but he always tends to be out when Harry visits (although Harry visiting is rare).

All Harry knows is that Louis is older than him by two years, is openly wild, has a thing for men, and is fiercely protective of Zayn (so protective that Harry has questioned Zayn multiple times whether he and Louis are a thing — apparently he's thought wrong though because Zayn keeps denying it).

Louis is also intimidating at times to the point where Harry can barely stick around in the same room with him for too long if they're alone, because he never knows what to say and is usually suffocating due to the silence. It doesn't help that Louis stares at him with these intense blue eyes of his, like he can see straight through Harry and knows what he’s thinking.

Without realizing it, Harry allows his eyes to linger a bit too long and Louis ends up finding his gaze. Their eyes lock, and then Harry is looking away faster than the speed of light, his neck jerking almost painfully. He stares down at his lap and thumbs at a hole in his trousers, pretending it's more interesting than what's going on around him.

Eventually the joint being passed around reaches Harry. He holds it between his index finger and his thumb and tries to swallow around the knot that’s taken hostage in his throat.

Liam nudges his shoulder. "You don't have to, Harry."

"Nah, we're not into peer pressure are we, lads?" Niall says with a laugh.

And the thing is, Harry knows he doesn't have to smoke it, but he's never done it before and he's always wondered what it feels like and why his friends rave about it so much, so he sucks it up and ignores the anxiety ticking in his chest like a time bomb, and he inhales.

As soon as the smoke reaches his lungs, he sputters and his throat burns and then he hacks it all up. Liam hands him a bottle of water while Niall steals the joint from him without much effort, patting him on the back.

He sips on the water with red cheeks and basks in how lame he feels.

"Oi, mates, you smoking without me?" A voice shouts from the sliding glass door.

"Ayy, Grimshaw! Get over here!" Niall calls from over his shoulder.

"Fucking fantastic," mutters Louis. "Who invited that arse?"

Zayn elbows him in the side. "Hey, be nice, babe."

Louis makes a show of rolling his eyes and pawing at his fringe. "Fine, but I still want him to fall off a bloody cliff."

Harry raises one eyebrow. He's about to ask why Louis would want that when Nick saunters over and plops down in between Niall and Zayn, who have managed to make room for him.

He thinks he hears Louis huff out a low sigh, but he can't be sure because all of a sudden he has pasted on a tight-lipped smile. "Nice to see you, Grimmy," Louis says, and Harry can't miss the way he spits Nick's nickname.

Nick doesn't pay much mind. He just smiles. "Same to you, Tommo."

"Here, man," Zayn says, passing Nick the joint. "Just one hit a pass though, alright? It's our last one."

Nick shrugs and proceeds to inhale like a pro, then it's being passed to Louis. When it reaches Harry again, he simply shakes his head and gives it straight to Niall. None of the boys laugh except Nick, and shame flutters through Harry's stomach.

"Not a smoker, eh?" teases Nick. "Surprised these fuckers let you hang around with them."

Silence follows his comment for about half a second before, "Fuck off, Grimmy!" rings through the air.

Harry is shocked as his eyes flicker to Louis. He's the last person Harry ever expected to stand up for him, and has trouble fighting back an impressed smile.

"Down boy," Nick laughs. "I don't mean anything by it. Just, you know, he seems so innocent compared to you lot."

"Yeah, well, we love Harry and his innocence," Zayn says, shooting Harry a gentle smile, and Harry wonders if they can see it, how bothered he is suddenly.

"Cheers to that," says Niall.

Nick hums. "How old ‘re you, mate?"

Harry's palms are slick with sweat. He wipes them off on his trousers and ignores the way Liam has settled his hand on top of his back, his thumb brushing back and forth along Harry's shoulder bone. "Nineteen."

Nick whistles. "You're a young one."

"I guess so," Harry says with a shrug. When the joint reaches him again, he notices that it's half gone already before handing it to Niall.

"Who's up for a swim?" Louis says out of the blue. "Anyone?"

"Well, hold on," Nick says. "I'm trying to get to know your friend here."

"Get to know him later,” Louis replies, his voice tight.

"Yeah, you know what," says Liam, "I'd love to go for a swim. How about you, Birthday Boy?" he asks Niall.

Niall jumps up and runs a hand through his hair. "It's gonna be cold as shit but sure thing." Then he looks towards Zayn. "You coming?"

Zayn smiles. "Maybe after I finish this joint."

While he isn't looking, Louis snags the quarter of what's left of the joint and puts it to his lips. Zayn huffs in annoyance until Louis makes a small signal with his hand, one that Harry isn’t able to grasp. With a grin, Zayn then opens his mouth, and Harry watches with intense curiosity as Louis blows little smoke rings into Zayn's mouth.

Harry's never seen anything quite like it, except for on TV of course. Never in person though.

"For God's sake!" Nick shouts. "Keep it PG, we've got innocent eyes among us." He shoots Harry a wink to let him know he's kidding, but Harry feels like he's been kicked in the stomach.

He isn't a fucking kid, and he doesn't like being teased over something so dumb. He wishes everyone would quit referring to him as innocent and is close to saying so, when Liam taps him on the shoulder and encourages him to come swimming. Harry swallows down what he wants to say, tears his eyes away from Zayn and Louis who look as though they're close to kissing, and stands up to tug his clothes off.

Nick cheers when Harry undoes his belt and drops his trousers, but he doesn't do it for Niall or Liam, and Harry wonders what that means. Or perhaps it doesn't mean anything. Maybe he's over-thinking the situation. He doesn't have much time to dwell on it though because suddenly he's being pushed into the pool. He nearly falls right on top of poor Niall, who curses and dives out of the way just in time for Harry to hit the cold water. When he comes up, he shakes out his hair and grins at the assailant. Liam smiles back softly before jumping in too.

Harry swims over to the edge where Zayn, Louis, and Nick are still sitting. He splashes a bit of water at them, but it only gets Louis. "Aren't you coming in?"

"Cheeky." Louis smirks. He kisses Zayn on the cheek and unbuttons his trousers.

"And ruin this hair?" Nick scoffs, catching Harry's attention again. "I don't think so. Besides," he says, "I know damn well that water's cold. And watching from the sidelines isn't so bad."

"Shut up or I'll push you in," Louis threatens as he moves past Nick.

"I'd like to see you try, Tommo!"

Louis flips him off and then dives into the water, not a hint of hesitation leering behind his eyes. He just goes for it.

Harry leans back against the edge of the pool, running his fingers along the surface of the water as he watches Niall and Liam wrestle each other. Behind him, Zayn has gone quiet and so has Nick, and Harry finds it to be the first peaceful moment he's gotten all night.

Music is still thrumming from the house but no one seems to notice or care. They've all ditched the party and Harry couldn't be happier; if only Nick would disappear.

Louis comes up from beneath the water, appearing by his side, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. "Hello," he murmurs.

Harry smiles. "Hi."

"Havin' a nice night?"

"Mm-hmm, yeah. S'been fun."

Louis sinks back against the wall. "It'd be better without you-know-who though, right?"

Harry pinches his bottom lip between two fingers and shrugs. "I guess so."

Faintly, he's aware of the fact that Zayn and Nick are now immersed in conversation. Relief floods through him now that he's not the center of Nick's attention anymore, and he hopes it stays that way.

"So, erm, how do you know him?"

"Who, Nick?"

"Yeah," Harry nods.

"Oh, well you know how I've got that radio gig now for school?"

Harry's eyebrows furrow. "No."

Louis laughs a little. "How are we such strangers? Honestly." He shakes his head. "Well, basically, Nick and I were battling for the same radio gig last year and he got it instead of me and that's how we met. And now I've got the gig this year and we're mortal enemies, so cheers to that I suppose."

Harry grins. "Mortal enemies, eh? Sounds serious."

"Oh, it is! Trust me." Louis returns the smile. "But we attempt at being nice, sort of."

"Really? I couldn't tell."

Louis cocks his head to the side. "Hey, do you want to get a beer with me real quick?"

"Right now?" Harry asks, glancing around at their friends.

"Yeah. Why not? This water's freezing anyways. Wasn't my best idea if I'm honest."

"I—" Harry wants to say no. He doesn't want to go back into that house, not until the music has died down and the people have vanished. "Erm, okay," he says, and it sort of just slips out without his permission.

"Well, c'mon then," smirks Louis. He turns and lifts himself over the edge of the pool, pulling himself up.

Harry does the same, ignoring the way his knee scrapes against the concrete with a wince. Then Louis is shaking off, allowing water droplets to fly all over Zayn and Nick, on purpose Harry presumes.

"What the fuck, Tomlinson!" Nick yells, wiping water from his face.

"What?" he blinks innocently, and Harry has to stifle a laugh. "Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there. It's almost like you're invisible or something, Grimmy."

Harry wrings out the legs of his pants and then reaches for his shirt, steering clear of Nick as he lets a slew of curse words leave his mouth. Harry trades grins with Louis behind Nick's back as they pull on their trousers before slipping away from the group.

They make it to the door when Louis suddenly pauses. Harry quirks one curious eyebrow in his direction. “Random, I know, but can I ask you something without completely offending you?"

"Well," Harry lets out a nervous laugh, "I can't promise anything but go ahead."

"Fair enough." Louis nods his head a few times. "Okay, um, is there a reason why you’re so quiet all the time?"

Harry blinks, unsure of how to answer the question.

Louis winces at the silence. "Sorry, sorry. It's just kinda strange considering you hang out with us and we're so loud most of the time. It doesn't fit."

Harry squirms a little. He isn't offended, just uncomfortable. "You've given this some thought it seems."

Louis shakes his head. "Just curiosity at its best."

"I see," Harry hums. "Well, erm...I don't really know how to answer that. It's just how I am I guess."

"Right. Of course. Sorry," Louis says. "Sometimes I come off insensitive, don't I?"

"No, it's alright. Don't worry about it.” Harry waves it off.

"Okay, um, so, that beer." Louis points to the door.

Attempting a smile, Harry slides open the glass door. "After you."

"Thank you," Louis bows with a playful smile and slips inside.

The beat of the music thrums through Harry's skull as he trails after Louis. As they wind through the crowd where the apparent dance floor is located, Harry nearly grapples for Louis' shirt out of fear that he might be swallowed up by the crowd and lose sight of him, but he refrains, squeezing his hands tight at his sides.

The kitchen is near empty except for some guy who is passed out underneath the kitchen table. Harry's eyes flicker to Louis who snags two beers from the refrigerator and gives Harry an exceptional smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Then he waves for him to follow and exits the kitchen. Harry stumbles after him, of course, and Louis leads him all the way up the stairs, down the dark hallway, and into his bedroom; the only room in the entire house that Harry has never seen before.

Harry lingers in the doorway, wringing his hands together as Louis climbs aboard the big bed in the corner and settles.

His eyes find Harry's a moment later and he frowns. "What's wrong?"

"It's just—" Harry licks over his lips. "I've never been in here before."

Louis cracks a laugh. "It's no big deal. Come on, I won't bite."

Struck with wonder as to why Louis is suddenly so interested in him, Harry shoves his hesitance away and forces his feet to move. He crosses the room and takes a seat on the edge of the mattress, a good space away from Louis, and takes the beer he's holding out for him. He twists off the cap and gulps some of the content down, holding back a grimace.

Louis smirks, watching him. "You're not a big fan of beer, are you?"

"Not so much," Harry admits, cheeks turning pink.

"So why're you drinking it then?" He raises his eyebrows.

Harry fiddles with the bottle cap, flipping it between his fingers. "Because I like the way it makes me feel."

Louis stares at him long and hard for about half a minute, then shakes his head with a knowing smile. "I think you're just saying that."

"Think what you want," Harry says, smiling in return. "I have no reason to lie."

"You make a good point." Louis nods along. "You know, Niall really didn't think you were gonna show tonight."

"Yeah, so he said." Harry's eyes flicker down to look at the bottle cap, avoiding Louis’ stare.

"I told him you'd come though, and look, here you are."

"Had no idea you had such faith in me. Why is that exactly?"

"I don't know really," Louis exhales with a shrug of his shoulders.

The edges of Harry's lips twitch. "Can I ask what we're doing up here?"

"Yeah, I don't know the reason for that either," admits Louis. "All I know is that I really want to kiss you right now. I've wanted to all night."

The bottle cap slips free from Harry's grasp and hits the floor without a sound.

He feels his heart hit the floor along with it.

With as much courage as he can muster, he lifts his head to meet Louis' gaze. He finds blue eyes and damp slicked back hair, and he can't deny the fact that Louis is stunning, but Harry has no desire to kiss him.

He doesn't say that, of course, because what a slap in the face that would be. Instead, Harry says, "I've never kissed anyone before.”

The silence that follows is deafening. He has no idea why he just admitted that and now he wants to hide away under a rock until death claims him.

"You're kidding." Louis blinks.

“Afraid not."

"Wow. You really are innocent."

His comment makes Harry frown. "I really wish people would quit saying things like that."

"Shit, sorry. It must get annoying, yeah?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Harry nods. "I mean, I get that it's true and all, but it's almost insulting, like people are throwing it back in my face. And I can't wrap my head around why it's such a bad thing."

"It's not," Louis says, his voice fierce, almost convincing. "I promise you, Harry, there's nothing wrong with it."

"Then why do people tease me over it so much?"

"Because people are assholes," he shrugs. "In our society men are shamed for not having sex whilst women are shamed for it. That mentality has followed us since the dawn of time. It's a dangerous way of thinking, I'll admit, and it's far from fair, but you can't let it bother you."

"This isn't just about sex though," Harry says, voice low, ashamed and embarrassed.

Louis studies him momentarily before frowning. "So that's why you're drinking," he notes with a nod, “ _and_  why you tried that joint earlier."

Harry shrugs and tips back his beer, drawing another sip from the bottle. "It's easier to say I've done it than to lie."

"For Christ's sake, Harry." Louis snags the beer from him, ignoring the way it sloshes, spilling over his hand and onto the bed, and sets it on the nightstand. "You don't have to drink if you don't want to. It's your body and it's best if you remember that. Don't let shitty people change or control your decisions, whether it's about alcohol, or smoking, or sex even. That's no way to live. Just do what I've learned to do and tell people to piss off."

Harry laughs. "I'm not as brave as you are...or as daring."

Louis' lips twitch into a coy smirk. "I wouldn't call myself daring. I just don't like people who make others feel small, or unworthy, or bad about themselves."

"Well, it seems we have that in common," Harry says. His eyes flicker to the beer Louis stole from him. "You know, I was kinda hoping to get drunk tonight."

"Drunk?" Louis bursts into laughter. "Harry, darling, I can't picture you drunk."

Harry huffs out a small laugh. "Don't call me that."

"What? Darling? Why?"

"Because," he says, "it makes me feel inferior."

Louis shakes his head, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. "You're a strange one."

"Not as strange as Nick Grimshaw, I hope," Harry jokes.

With a grin easing onto his face, Louis hands him his beer. "Cheers to that."

They clink beer bottles and sip back a few mouthfuls. Louis’ eyes don’t leave Harry’s the entire time. Not even for a second.

Harry lowers the bottle from his lips and tilts his head to the side. "D'you still want to kiss me?"

Louis chokes on his beer. He sputters and wheezes for a breath, blue eyes wide and round. "Are you really asking me that?" He pauses to cough, hand pressed to his chest. "You know I do but...not unless you really want it."

Licking over his lips, Harry straightens his spine and ignores the nerves twining around his ribcage. "What if I'm not sure?" he says. "What if I've never been sure?”

Louis blinks in return. "Care to explain what you mean?"

"Sorry," Harry says with a low sigh. "Sometimes I'm terrible at making sense."

Louis reaches for his hand and squeezes it. "It's okay," he says. "Take your time."

"It's just...I’ve never met anyone I've wanted to kiss before."

"Not even people you've had crushes on?" Louis quirks one eyebrow.

"No, not even then."

Louis hums, almost like he isn't sure what to make of that. Harry isn't sure either. It isn't something he's ever told anyone before, and for the life of him he can't figure out why he chose to confide in Louis, but here they are.

"Well," Louis says. "That is a little strange. Um, if you ever do want to try it, just let me know I guess."

Harry rubs his thumb over the neck of the beer bottle and refuses to meet Louis' eyes. "I do want to try it though," he says. "I think."

Louis laughs outright, nearly startling Harry who peeks up at him, pale-faced.

"It's not funny," he insists with a wry smile, partially relieved to find that yes, Louis is undeniably laughing at him, but not to be cruel like he first thought, not like Nick earlier. Guilt weighs down on him for thinking otherwise.

Louis silences his laughter the best he can and then clears his throat. "No," he says. "No, you're right. I apologize." A smile threatens his lips, the corners twitching. "You're just so…endearing."

"Fuck off!" A sheepish grin forces its way onto Harry's face. "How's that for endearing?"

"Still endearing I'm afraid..." Louis trails, setting his beer down. "Now, about that kiss."

Harry swallows. "Yes. The kiss. Please."

 Louis scoots forward until their knees bump, eyes never leaving Harry's. "You sure about this? Your first kiss should be special."

"Well, you're kind of special."

A sputtered laugh spills from Louis' lips. "Kind of? Thanks." He reaches out and toys with a damp curl, twining it around his finger. "You know," he says, "you're quite the handsome fellow up close."

Harry's cheeks flush again. "Thanks," he murmurs. His heartrate has spiked, thundering against his chest. The noise echoes through his ears and he wonders if Louis can hear it.

"Okay, close your eyes," Louis tells him.

"Why?"

"Because," Louis exhales, feigning annoyance as he rolls his eyes, "that's just what you do when you kiss someone. You close your eyes, relax, and just let it happen."

Harry clenches his hand around the beer bottle, his other nervously kneading into his knee cap as he gives in and closes his eyes.

"Are you relaxed?"

"I think so, yeah."

He swears he can almost hear Louis smile. "Fantastic."

It all happens kind of fast.

One second Louis is a good foot away from him and then the next, Harry can feel the warmth of his skin crowding into his space. Panic erupts through his chest like a volcano, spreading through his body at the speed of light until it's clawing at his throat. Harry fights against it and refuses to move the slightest muscle, fearing he might jerk away and not go through with it. But he wants this, he tells himself, he does. He wants to know once and for all what it feels like to kiss someone.

The next thing he knows, Louis' hand has enclosed around his cheek and his lips are introducing themselves to Harry's lips. It lasts maybe three seconds before Harry folds and pulls away, his eyes flying open as his anxiety takes over one hundred percent.

Louis looks taken back at first but shields it with a sweet smile within seconds. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Sorry," Harry murmurs.

His face has crumpled and his lip is slightly wobbling and he swears he isn't going to cry, but he just doesn't understand why he isn't normal, why he feels so repulsed and ashamed over one fucking kiss. It doesn't make sense in his head. He presses a hand to his eye, the sting of tears quickly washing over him.

"Shit." Louis looks genuinely concerned at this point, his face furrowed and his eyes sad. "Was it that bad?" he says, trying to play it off with a joke.

Harry shakes his head. "No, no. You're lovely, Lou, so fucking lovely. I just— I don't like doing that."

"Well, that's okay," Louis takes his hand again, eyes boring into his.

"Is it?" Harry asks. His eyes have officially filled with tears and he hardly has enough energy to care. "Because it doesn't feel okay. It feels like I'm some kind of freak."

"Oh, Harry, no. You're not a freak. Kissing is kind of weird now that I think about it, and not liking it isn't that big of a deal," he says reassuringly. "I promise you, it's gonna be okay."

Harry sniffles. "But how am I supposed to be in a relationship? God," he swallows, "how am I supposed to have sex?"

"Darling," Louis clucks, "you can have a relationship without kissing, and without sex even. It isn't the end of the world. And who knows, maybe you'll meet someone someday that you do like to kiss. Perhaps I'm just the wrong person."

Harry paws at his eyes and makes a face. "Maybe," he amends.

"C'mere and have a cuddle," Louis murmurs. He steals Harry’s beer away for the second time and sets it to the side before pulling Harry into his arms.

Harry goes freely, winding his arms around Louis’ torso and burying his face into the nestle of his shoulder.

"That's a good lad. Everything's gonna be fine, you'll see."

Harry sighs into the fabric of Louis' shirt. "Why are you being so kind to me?"

Louis runs his fingers through Harry's damp curls. "Honestly? Because I think you're a good person and I— well, I like you."

"But you've barely spoken to me until now," Harry points out.

"Yes," Louis says, "I'm aware, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for that. It’s just— they told me to stay away from you because they're afraid we'll get close and I'll hurt you."

Harry jerks back, eyebrows drawn. "What? Who?"

Louis looks hesitant. "Zayn and Liam and…Gemma."

"Gemma?" Harry's mouth falls open. "My sister? You're telling me that we've barely had a single conversation before tonight because of my sister and, and, because of Zayn and Liam. What the fuck!"

"I know," he groans, "it sounds ridiculous. But you know my reputation is bad, and when I found interest in you a few years ago, they told me to stay away. I can't blame them for that," Louis shrugs. "I've done some things I'm not proud of, Harry, and I've hurt a lot of people—"

"But you're not like that anymore," Harry cuts in. "I've known you for years, and even if we were never anything more than acquaintances, I've still seen the way you've changed."

"Yeah?" murmurs Louis.

"Yeah," Harry says. "I just wish you hadn't been so closed off and cold towards me. We could have been friends a long time ago."

Regret flashes through Louis' eyes. "I'm sorry."

Harry leans back into him, not ready to let go just yet. "Me too."

They sit there for a long while in silence. Louis draws circles onto Harry's back with his fingertips while Harry rests his eyes and counts each time the bass thrums, fighting off his anxiety with every bit of strength he has left. 

Eventually his heart comes back down from his throat, and he feels like he can breathe without crying, and then his stomach begins to rumble much to his embarrassment.

Louis laughs softly. "Hungry?"

"A bit," he admits, easing his way out of Louis' arms. "Didn't eat much today."

"Well, we can't have that. There's a Mickey D's around the corner that's open around the clock. We could head over there if you want. I'm pretty hungry myself, to be honest."

"And ditch the party?" Harry frowns.

"Technically," says Louis, a smirk dwindling along his mouth, "we've already ditched the party."

"Oh. I guess we have," he says sheepishly. "Whoops."

Louis waves Harry's concern away. "It was my idea to disappear. Niall won't care. Besides," he says, rising from the bed, "everyone could see how uncomfortable the party made you tonight, and Nick seemed to be making things worse."

Harry's stomach clenches. "Really, everyone?"

"Well, maybe not everyone per se, but me and the lads could see it. It's no big deal though, really," he says, heading over to his dresser.

Harry bites down on his lip as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches Louis rummage through a few different drawers, pulling out several articles of clothing. When he turns back, he holds up a pair of pants along with a shy smile. "Would it be weird if I offered you dry pants?"

A laugh spills from Harry's lips. "Probably. But mine are far too uncomfortable for me to care."

Louis grins. "Same here. I think I might be chafing a bit." He tosses the pants over along with some trousers and a sweatshirt, both looking two sizes too small, but Harry will take what he can get. "Go ahead and change in here. I'll use the bathroom across the hall."

"Thanks, Louis," he smiles.

Louis gives him a nod, one that says 'it's no problem', and then he slips out the door, closing it behind him.

Harry doesn't allow himself a single moment of thought. He simply picks himself up off the bed and begins to change, because he knows that if he allows his brain to process tonight's events, he might very well shut down, and that would just add to the embarrassment he already feels. So he tugs off his damp trousers and tosses both them and his soaked pants into Louis' laundry basket, unconcerned if he'll actually get them back or not. When he's finished with that, he slips into the navy blue sweatshirt that has the VANS logo written across it and proceeds to shake out his damp hair.

Louis is standing outside the bedroom door when Harry exits the room, waiting on him with a smile. Harry is quick to notice that he is now wearing a denim jacket over his Adidas shirt and has combed his hair. His eyes are also gleaming, and he looks happy, like he doesn't have a care in the world. Harry wonders if he has ever looked that happy before.

"Ready?" Louis asks.

"I believe so," Harry replies.

"In that case, after you."

They head down the hall and follow the stairs down to the main level of the house where the party is still going on. Harry quirks his eyebrows up at the scene, wondering what time it is.

He just transferred his phone from his other trousers and slipped it into his back pocket without a glance, and now he has an itch to reach for it, to know how late it is, but ultimately decides he would rather stay oblivious for the time being. If he checks the time then he'll only panic over the fact that he has an early lecture in the morning, as he's sure half of these people do, but perhaps it won't hurt to skip for once.

They slip out the front door unnoticed and Harry is grateful for the cool, frigid air. It feels nice in his lungs, and within moments, his head feels clearer than it has all night. Or maybe that's just from Louis’ comforting presence and the fact that their elbows keep bumping.

"I sent a text to Zayn," Louis says as they step onto the sidewalk. "He says they're gonna call it a night soon, so fingers crossed the house is cleared out by the time we get back."

"I hope so," Harry murmurs.

Louis exhales a white breath. "If parties and gatherings make you so uncomfortable, then why do you attend them? Why did you come tonight?"

Harry turns to look at him and finds blue eyes staring back. He shrugs feebly. "Because I love Niall, and I knew he wanted me to be here even if he refused to say so. The guys don't usually like to put any pressure on me when it comes to these sort of things."

"Is that why you came to Zayn's party at the end of last summer, because you knew he wanted you there?"

"Yes," Harry answers honestly. "I don't like letting my friends down, so I push aside my issues and do what I have to do."

"Wow," Louis says, sounding astounded as he shakes his head. "You just might be one of the most selfless people I've ever met, Harry. Except for, like, my mum."

"Hardly," he laughs, the sound faint as he dismisses Louis' comment. "But thanks."

It takes less than ten minutes to follow the sidewalk around the corner and come face to face with Mickey D's. They probably could have made it in half that time if Harry hadn't trailed so slowly, but in his defense, he was enjoying the way the silence lingered through the streets of their tiny town, and how the cold air sent pleasant chills up and down his spine. Luckily, Louis didn't seem bothered by his slow pace. Just smiled and walked side by side with him, as if he didn't even notice.

Inside, the restaurant is empty except for a handful of employees in the back. Louis heads straight for the counter, his chin held high like he's on some mission while Harry sidles up beside him, his shoulders hunched as though he's trying to make himself seem small, invisible even.

Louis is already yammering off his order, and Harry raises an eyebrow or two when he hears Louis order two Big Macs, but okay.

When it's Harry's turn to order, Louis turns and gives him a beaming smile, and the encouragement has Harry standing a tad bit taller as he asks for a medium order of fries and a large chocolate milkshake.

Louis tilts back, astonished that he's ordering so little and insists he get something with protein, something his own mother would do, so Harry rolls his eyes and orders a small pack of chicken nuggets to satisfy him.

"Happy?" he asks, as he digs out his wallet.

Still beaming, Louis nods. "I'd say so."

Once they get their food, they seat themselves at a table beside the window, and Harry stares out at the empty, glowing street, chewing on fries while Louis quietly eats his Big Macs. He finishes the first one in record time, but seems to be struggling a bit with the second.

Harry smirks a little around his straw. "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach, you know."

Louis throws a piece of lettuce at him. "Hush! I'm trying to concentrate. And I resent that, thank you very much."

Shrugging, Harry snags a nugget and pops it into his mouth, forcing himself to chew.

"Do you want some ketchup for those?"

A look of disgust crosses Harry's face. "No, thanks. I'm not a fan of ketchup."

Louis raises one eyebrow. "So what do you like then?

Harry eyes flicker up to meet his. “Barbecue sauce.”

He watches as Louis holds back a smile, his eyes soft and warm. "You know they have that here, right?"

Harry stares for a second, tempted to roll his eyes. He decides against it and reaches for his milkshake instead. "Yes, Louis. I know," he replies in a flat voice, trying to hide his partial amusement.

"Then why didn't you ask for it?" Louis tilts his head curiously.

"What is it with you and all your questions?"

"I'm a curious person!" exclaims Louis, brows furrowed. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. Never mind." Harry sets his drink down and ignores the way his stomach feels like it's caving in. 

"Don't try to change the subject," Louis says.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Sometimes people make me nervous," he says, "and I don't like asking for things."

Louis hums as he reaches over and steals a fry. Then he gets up from his seat and walks away from the table. Harry's response is immediate as he turns around in his seat, a question of 'where are you going?' hanging from the tip of his tongue.

Harry watches, intrigued, as Louis walks up to the girl behind the counter. He notices the way she smiles at Louis as he talks, and understands in a way, because if there's one thing he's noticed about Louis tonight, it's that he has this way of making the people around him smile without even trying. It's kind of ridiculous...and a little magical.

He comes back a minute later, and before Harry has the chance to question his actions, he slides into his seat and sets two barbecue sauces down in front of Harry. Harry stares at them for a long moment, his heart tugging at the sweet gesture. 

While wearing a lame, wobbly smile, he reaches out for one. "Thank you," he murmurs.

Louis gives him a smile that says he understands, and Harry thinks that maybe he does. Perhaps he understands more than anyone.

As they finish their late night/early morning snack, they share light conversation, talking about their favorite films and their favorite colors and their favorite classes at university. They talk about why Harry decided to major in Arts, and why Louis is so interested in radio, and how they both love football but only one of them plays.

They  _don't_  talk about why Harry's hands begin to tremble while they discuss the art project he's working on, and how it's worth ninety percent of his grade this semester, nor do they talk about the fact that Louis was recently kicked off the football team for punching a teammate out, and it's clear that he's still bitter over it.

They do well at ignoring the bad things, only focusing on the good, and the experience as a whole is refreshing.

Harry also finds Louis' good spirit to be refreshing, and he could absolutely kick himself for spending so much time intimidated by this incredible, genuine human being who he never wants to say goodbye to. He could also kick his sister, and Zayn and Liam, for telling Louis to stay away from him, but that will have to wait for another day. For now, his only focus is Louis.

When they're finished eating, Harry finds himself almost disappointed. He can feel the moment slipping away, and soon they're going to be tossed back into reality where life is shit and school is hard and their problems are indefinite, and it leaves him feeling nearly empty. He can only hope that tomorrow doesn't bring back the past, that they don't lose this connection they've stumbled across.

As they walk back to the house, Harry keeps his arms folded into each other, his hands tucked away as he tries to warm them up. Louis allows them to walk in silence, almost like he knows how appreciative Harry is of the quiet, and it's just one more thing that tugs at Harry's heart.

The house is surprisingly quiet when they slip inside. Almost everyone has disappeared out the door they came through, except for a slight few who have managed to pass out among the couches and along the floor...and even the coffee table.

"I'm not sure your coffee table is sturdy enough to hold that guy.” Harry points out, and Louis laughs into his hand.

"I think you're right, but meh, if Ty breaks it then he replaces it.”

"Oh, you know him?" asks Harry.

Louis nods as they step around the trash scattered among the floor. "I know everyone," he says, and leaves it at that.

They find Zayn and Liam in the kitchen, and unfortunately they're not alone. Nick is with them, too. They're sipping on beers and cigarettes, and Harry wrinkles his nose as a cloud of smoke gets him right in the face.

"Look who's still alive," Louis smirks. "Where's the birthday boy?"

"He's passed out in a pool chair out back," Liam says.

"Thank God, too," Zayn adds. "His bed is currently being occupied by that drunk theater girl. You know, the one he hooked up with a few weeks ago."

Louis leans against the doorway. "Amanda?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Liam confirms with a nod of his head. "Anyways, where've you two been?" he asks casually. Harry can see the distaste lingering in his eyes, but ignores it for now.

"Took Harry here to Mickey D's for a bite to eat. He was proper starving," Louis says.

"It's true," Harry nods solemnly. "My stomach was attempting to eat itself. But lucky for me, Louis came to the rescue."

Nick laughs, but it isn't sweet. It's jarring. "Harry, babes, trust me, you don't want Louis 'coming to your rescue' as you so politely put it."

Louis' face transforms into a glare in seconds. "Isn't it about time you escorted yourself out, Grimmy?"

Harry stands completely still, refusing to speak. He doesn't want to involve himself in their little feud.

"Actually," Zayn cuts in, "Nick was just leaving."

Nick smiles a harsh smile, one that's meant for Louis as he stubs out his cigarette and rises, tall and intimidating, towering over all of them. "See you lads Thursday for the footy match."

Zayn and Liam toss out their own farewells and then Nick is striding past them. He shoots Harry a smirk before pausing in front of Louis. The kitchen turns dead silent as Nick leans in close to Louis' ear and whispers something low. From the way Louis clenches his fists, Harry assumes it isn't good.

Liam is out of his seat in seconds, offering to walk Nick out. Nick gets the hint and pushes past Louis, their shoulders knocking, and Liam goes after him, shooting Louis an apologetic look as he passes.

The second they hear the front door shut, Louis unclenches his jaw, inhales a long breath, and turns to Harry. "Let's go crash. I'm exhausted," he says, sounding different from before. Like he's been crushed by Nick's words, whatever they may have been.

Harry presses his lips together and hides his frown. "Okay."

They throw good-night's to Zayn and vanish upstairs to Louis' bedroom.

His bed looks heavenly, Harry thinks, as he toes off his shoes.

Louis has already beaten him to the punch. His shoes were kicked off the second he entered the room, flying in two different directions, and now Louis has crawled into bed, taking the side that's tucked against the wall. He didn't even undress, which Harry finds strange, but he's also relieved because sleeping with a half-naked Louis is not something Harry's anxiety can handle tonight. So he slides into bed next to him, not even attempting to remove his sweatshirt, and pulls the covers tight over his body.

"Hey, Louis?" he whispers.

"Hm?"

"Thanks for tonight."

Louis blinks his eyes open, and through the dark Harry sees his lips curl into a faint smile. "Don't mention it."

Harry lips mold into a smile of his own. "Good night."

Louis yawns. "Night, Harry."

It doesn't take long for Louis' breath to even out, and Harry listens to the steady sound of his chest rising and falling as he, too, succumbs to sleep.

     

     ///

     

The next day Harry wakes up confused and prickling with panic. He sits up, alerted by the strange surroundings, and jumps when he feels a warm hand touch his arm.

"Hey, you okay?"

Harry turns his head and finds a sleepy Louis staring back at him, concern glazed over his eyes.

Memories from the night before filter back and he exhales a sharp breath as he nods his head and runs his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, m'fine. Sorry. Did I wake you?" He sinks back down against the pillow, eyes watching as the fan above them spins in slow motions.

"No, my phone did actually. Was buzzing like mad in my pocket," he says. "It's past noon by the way."

"I figured as much." Harry cracks a smile. "I missed my lecture this morning."

"As did I," Louis murmurs.

Harry digs his cell phone out from his pocket and frowns at the screen. "Shit," he groans. "I've got seven missed calls from Gems."

Louis laughs. "She's gonna have your head on a spike."

"Probably," Harry agrees.

He types out a quick message to his sister that mainly says he's safe and still breathing and that he'll be home later. He knows she's going to give him hell the second he walks through the door, but for now he doesn't care to hear it, so he keeps his ringer on silent and puts his phone back into his pocket.

"I'm dead tired," he says next.

"Fuck, me too." Louis sits up and paws at his messy hair. "I need coffee stat. Wanna join me on a trip to Starbucks?"

Harry slings an arm over his face to shield his eyes with an impressive pout. "I'd rather sleep."

"I have a better idea," Louis says. The bed shifts and Harry can hear the sound of him tapping away at his phone. "Zayn's on his way back from class so I'll see if he'll pick us up something."

"Thank God," Harry mumbles, removing his arm. "I've got some cash on me so I can just—"

"There's no need," Louis says, with a wave of his hand. "I paid for his takeaway the other night after he misplaced his wallet, so he owes me." His phone dings and Louis exhales in relief. "Oh, bless him. He's agreed to do it. What do you want?"

"Erm, something fruity."

"Oh, Harry." Louis shakes his head, feigning disappointment. "What am I gonna do with you? I'm offering you a free drink, from Starbucks no less, and you want something fruity. Don't you like coffee?"

"Honestly?" he says, brows raised. "I'm afraid to answer that question. That look in your eye is scaring me a bit."

Louis clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Fine. I'll just have him get you a smoothie of some sort, and if you don't like it then tough."

"Sounds perfect," replies Harry with a smile.

Through sleepy eyes, he swears he catches Louis biting back a smile as his attention turns back to his phone again.

After twenty minutes of Harry resting his eyes and Louis messing about on his phone, Zayn whisks through the door with their drinks. An easy grin slides onto Louis' face as he leans over Harry and plucks his drink from Zayn's hand. "Thanks, babe. You're a gem."

Harry bats him out of his space and forces himself to sit up. Zayn hands him a pink smoothie with a cautious smile. "It's strawberry and banana, nice and simple."

"Thank you." Harry gives him a sweet smile. He leans back against the headboard and sips his drink.

Zayn gives him a nod, like a silent 'you're welcome', but his eyes have already flickered back to Louis. Harry can see concern lingering through his eyes which automatically raises his interest. "Hey, Lou, don't you have a lecture at two and a session with your study group at six?"

A pause of silence wavers between them.

"...No."

Zayn rolls his eyes. "Don't lie. I know your schedule."

"Alright, fine," Louis says, head turning to give Zayn an even stare, one that's terribly intimidating in Harry's opinion. Zayn doesn't seem bothered by it though, which, lucky him. "What's your point,  _Dad_?"

"Nothing," says Zayn, casually. "Just thought you were taking your studies a bit more seriously this term is all."

Louis huffs out a sigh. "Thanks for the coffee but you're getting on my nerves now, so can you leave?"

"Lou," Zayn says, firmer.

"Stop fussing over me, babe." Louis shoos him away with his hand. "I'm gonna jump in the shower as soon as this coffee is in my system, and then I'm off to class like the semi well-rounded adult I am."

Harry glances between them, surprised by how married they sound. Which, like, what the  _fuck_. Harry knew they were close, but God, he had no idea it was this bad. He feels like he's intruding on some private moment. Perhaps he should leave.

Zayn shoots Louis a soft smile. "Good to hear. Well, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go wake up Liam for his afternoon lecture. Wish me luck." He vanishes through the door but only for a second before his head pops back around the doorway. "Oh, I almost forgot, Lou. Are you still joining me and the boys tonight for Niall's birthday dinner? We're meeting at eight over at that new pizza joint."

Harry frowns. Since when did they plan on having a birthday dinner for Niall, and why is this the first he's hearing about it? After all, Niall is one of his best mates. They all are, so why wasn't he invited?

"Do you honestly think I'm gonna miss my mate’s birthday dinner?" Louis asks, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Just checking," Zayn grins. "You're coming along too, right, Harry? Bring Gemma if she isn't busy. We miss her loads."

"Yeah, erm, alright. I'll be sure to ask her," Harry says, forcing a smile.

"Great! See yah later." He disappears once and for all.

Harry sips on his cold smoothie with furrowed eyebrows, his head muddled with a hundred different thoughts concerning his friends.

Do they not want him around anymore, he wonders, because surely there must be an issue if no one's told him about this get together until now. And if there is indeed an issue, then what is it exactly?

"Don't think too hard over there, Harold," Louis jokes, catching his eye. "That brain of yours probably can't handle it."

Harry's cheeks go pink. "Shut up."

"Sorry." Louis suppresses a laugh. "But really, what's going through your head, love?"

Harry swallows nervously. His eyes fall to his lap, where his drink rests, and he allows his fingertips to pinch the tip of his green straw. "It's stupid," he says, shaking his head a little.

"Aw, I doubt that," Louis says. "C'mon, out with it." He nudges Harry's arms with his elbow.

"It's just, no one invited me tonight."

"Harry, no." Louis shakes his head, brows furrowed. "There must be some kind of mistake. Surely Niall told you. He said he was gonna ask you last week, he probably just forgot."

Harry slips his legs over the edge of the bed, turning his back on Louis. "You don't have to lie."

"I'm not, Harry. I swear on it. Maybe he didn't ask you because he wasn't sure you'd show? You just — you don't come around as often as you used to, and I get that you're having some anxiety trouble, but—"

"It's not anxiety," Harry sniffs. "I just don't like public spaces. Or people. But I like you guys, and I wouldn't miss something as important as a birthday dinner."

"Alright, okay. I'm sorry, yeah?" The bed shifts and Louis' hand finds Harry's shoulder. "I didn't mean to offend you, and I'm sure Niall didn't either, and I know he'd really love it if you came tonight, you know, if you want."

Harry shrugs. "I'll have to ask Gems," he says. "But maybe. Erm," he sets his smoothie aside and glances around for his shoes, “I should go. I've got loads to do and you've got class, so. Thanks for the smoothie.”

Louis opens his mouth to protest as Harry shrugs off his hand lightly and stands, but the words never come.

Harry's shoes are by the door, perched side by side. He slips his feet into them and then starts to take off Louis' sweatshirt.

"Don't," Louis says. "Keep it. It's cold out."

"You sure?" Harry asks, slowly lowering the material back over his shirt.

"Yeah," he nods. "Of course." His eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s. "So, I'll see you later, yeah?" He sounds hopeful.

Harry forces a smile. "I'll text you and let you know."

Louis nods his head again, silent, and Harry can feel the way his eyes bore into his every movement as he snags his smoothie from the nightstand and exits the room without another word.

     

///

 

Two things are out of place when Harry steps into his flat.

The entire place smells of sweet, sticky syrup, and there's laughter coming from the kitchen.

One laugh belongs to his older sister, but the other one is deeper, belonging to a male, and Harry doesn't recognize it.

He throws his keys into the bowl beside the door and strides into the kitchen, brows furrowed. He barely passes through the doorway before his feet stall. His sister is standing in front of the stove, and a guy whom he doesn't know is perched behind her, his arms wrapped around her torso and his chin hooked over her shoulder.

They haven't noticed him yet, so Harry clears his throat and watches with slight satisfaction as they jump away from one another. Gemma is so startled she drops the spoon in her hand, pancake batter splattering to the floor.

"Sorry. Thought you were gonna be alone," Harry says.

"Harry," Gemma laughs nervously, “I thought you weren't coming home until later."

Harry shrugs. "Things change, I guess."

"Well," she murmurs, eyes flicking to her friend and then back at him, "where've you been? I was worried."

He gives a faint laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. So, who's your friend?"

The guy standing beside her raises a hand and waves, a sheepish smile easing onto his lips. "I'm Ben," he says.

"Ben?" Harry stares, studying Ben's short sandy brown hair and green eyes. He's not as tall as Harry, but his shoulders are broad and muscular. Well, at least he's dressed, Harry thinks to himself. "Interesting. Never heard of you before."

Ben looks visibly uncomfortable as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and looks over at Gemma. "I can go," he tells her.

Gemma frowns. "Ben, no—“

"That's not necessary," Harry cuts her off, shaking his head. "Stay, enjoy breakfast. I'm gonna go shower."

He ducks away before his sister can stop him and slinks off to his room. As he closes his door, he can hear Gemma apologizing to Ben on Harry's behalf, and he feels a twinge of guilt. Normally he wouldn't act so rude, but he feels lied to. It's clear to him that Gemma has been seeing Ben for quite sometime now, and Harry has a hard time understanding why she would keep a relationship of hers hidden from him. She never has before.

While he showers, he stands under the stream of hot water and forces his brain to be quiet, too tired to deal with all the thoughts clouding his head. Everything goes a bit muted, and all he can hear is the water beating down against the bottom of the shower as his mind focuses on one thought; Louis.

Part of him doesn't want to think about Louis, fearing that if he gets attached, and he knows that he will, that Louis will decide he doesn't want him around anymore. Probably because Harry is complicated. He's filled with troubled thoughts every second of the day, and he has his fair share of insecurities, and maybe he does have a touch of anxiety, and sometimes it's all too much for him to handle, let alone for another person.

But the other part of him wants a thousand more nights like last night. Harry wants to spend his days with Louis getting to know every piece of him until there's nothing left to discover, because he's special, and not in a way that Harry can explain. He just is. And being around him last night made Harry feel okay, like even though he's suffocating from worries half the time, Louis just might be able to teach him how to breathe again.

Harry buries his face into the palms of his hands, knowing that idea is ridiculous. He knows better than to rely on someone else to 'fix' him, or make him better, and he knows he can't allow himself to think like that. It's too dangerous, too tempting.

Frustrated with himself, he slams his hand against the shower handle to shut off the water, and reminds himself to inhale and exhale until the knots in his chest have loosened. Then he dries off and dresses.

When he exits the bathroom, he pastes on a smile and pretends he isn't being smothered from the inside out.

Ben is still hanging around, he learns, and he's mildly surprised. Harry expected him to leave, but instead he and Gemma have settled at the kitchen table, and are eating pancakes and fresh fruit. Harry's stomach starts to rumble the second he steps into the kitchen. He ignores the two lovebirds and heads over to the refrigerator to see what he can dig up. He scans the shelves and ends up snagging a bag of grapes, figuring they'll do for now.

"I made some extra pancakes, Harry," Gemma says as soon as he's withdrawn himself from the refrigerator.

"No, thanks," he replies. "Take them next door to Marty. He'd appreciate them more."

"Oh, good idea! If I wrap them up, will you take them over to him for me?"

A grape is halfway to his mouth when Harry feels every nerve in his body seize up. Gemma's eyes are on him, and now Ben has even looked up. Swallowing tight, he grabs his grapes and forces a half smile. "I'm working on a paper. Sorry." Then he strides out of the room like his arse is on fire before she can stop him, refusing to look back.

Halfway to his room, he hears Ben say, "Your brother is weird."

He doesn't wait to hear Gemma's reply, just retreats to his room where he can be alone.

She knocks on his door an hour later.

Harry closes the lid of his laptop, a sigh passing his lips as he tugs his earbuds free and sets them aside.

He's been sitting at his desk staring at a blank white page for the last thirty minutes, struggling with the intro of a paper that’s due in less than a week. He can already picture the zero written across the front in red ink, another failed grade to add to the pile. University, apparently, is tough. Who would have thought? Certainly not Harry who used to slide by in school, but those days are long gone now.

He puts his head down on the desk, his cheek resting against the cool wood. "Come in," he calls

The door creaks open and her head peeks in. Her long blonde hair hangs over her shoulders, a soft—almost careful—smile pulling at her lips. "We should talk," she says.

Harry wants to bang his head against the desk, but he refrains (barely). "Sure thing." He lifts his head and rolls his neck a little. "What's up?"

Gemma ventures further into the room. "Don't get mad," she says, which, okay, “but can I ask where you disappeared off to last night?"

"I went to Niall's party, remember?"

"Yeah, but you didn't come home or call."

"Sorry," Harry mumbles. "The night took an interesting turn."

"Oh?" She arches one eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Well," he says, "I attempted to get drunk, but it didn't really work. And then I attempted to get high, but that didn't work either because that stuff is terrible."

Gemma shakes her head, amusement lit up through her eyes. "Nice," she laughs. "What else?"

"Not a whole lot," he shrugs. "Just, you know, hung out with Louis while everyone got smashed."

"Yeah," she says with a long exhale, crossing her arms, "I heard."

His eyebrows furrow and his posture straightens. "You heard? From who?"

She waves a hand through the air. "That isn't the point, H."

"Okay," he says, "so what is your point? Where are you going with this?"

"Listen, Harry, I get it, okay?" she says, dropping her arms to her sides. "Louis is intriguing and handsome and he knows all the right things to say, but..." she trails. "He isn't the type of guy you want to get involved with."

"Involved?" Harry's eyes widen. "Who said anything about getting involved? I highly doubt Louis feels that way about me."

"God, how can you be so blind?" Gemma rolls her eyes. She collapses on the edge of his unmade bed. "Haven't you noticed the way he stares at you?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"I knew it!" She breaks out into a grin.

Now it's Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "You're being ridiculous. Louis and I are just friends." He notices the way her expression turns sour when he says that, and he's reminded of what Louis told him last night. Anger and annoyance wells up inside of him. "I don't know which one called you, if it was Zayn or Liam, but if I want to be friends with Louis then that's my business. You guys had no right telling him to stay away from me."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I disagree," she says.

A helpless look folds over him. He opens his mouth to protest, to yell maybe, but she holds up a hand and the words vanish from his tongue.

"I love Louis to death, you know that. He's one of my closest mates. But you were only sixteen when he first showed an interest in you, and I knew that if I let him get close to you that you'd end up like all the others, used and heartbroken. I couldn't let that happen to you, Harry, I just couldn't."

"Okay, I get it," he says. "You love me and you want to protect me, and I appreciate that, Gemma, but Louis isn't that person anymore. He's changed. You of all people should be able to see that."

"I do see it," she assures him. "He's changed wonderfully over the last year, but do you know why he's changed?" she asks.

Harry swallows around the knot forming in his throat and turns away. "I don't need to."

"Harry," she sighs, “trust me, you do.”

"Fine!" he huffs. "Then tell me!"

A beat of silence passes, and then her soft voice fills the room. "It's because he for once was on the other end of things... Harry, last year Louis fell for Nick."

Harry's neck nearly snaps right off as he jerks around to look at her. "Nick Grimshaw?" His anger has vaporized and in its place is shock.

"Yep, the one and only."

"But—but they hate each other!"

"Yeah, now," she says with a faint scoff, "but last year was a different time, my friend."

Harry leans forward in his chair, hands wringing together. "Well, stop being cruel then, and tell me what happened."

"No way!" She shakes her head. "You can ask him tonight if you're so curious, but save it for after Niall's birthday dinner, please."

"You're ridiculous and confusing." Harry scowls. "One minute you want me to stay away from him and the next you're telling me to talk to him. Which is it?"

"What are you going on about?" asks Gemma, raising one eyebrow. "I'm not telling you to stay away from him. That never once came out of my mouth. I'm not Mum, I don't have control over you. I just want you to know who Louis really is before you get swept up in all his charm, and that includes his past."

"That isn't going to happen," he mutters. "We're not like that."

"Are you kidding me?" Her lips curl into a smirk. "You slept in the same bed last night, so please, enlighten me then, what is it like?"

"Fucking Zayn," Harry curses. "I knew it."

"Don't blame him, H. He's just concerned about the two of you."

"Why do you all feel the need to treat me like a little kid?" he asks, genuinely curious. "I'm nineteen, thanks. I don't need to be looked after anymore. If I did, I'd move home to live with Mum."

"Oh, hush. You're my baby brother. Of course I'm gonna treat you like a kid."

Sick and tired of this entire conversation, he slumps over his desk and buries his face away into the tangled mess of his arms. "Get out please."

"Fine." The bed creaks. "But your arse better be ready to go by seven forty-five or so help me, Harry."

"Goodbye!" he shouts.

With a final huff, she closes the door.

For once, Harry managed to have the final word.

     

   ///

 

The first thing Harry spots as he and Gemma make their way across the street is Louis, who is standing outside the pizza joint with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his denim jacket. He's bouncing on the soles of his feet as his blue eyes glance all around, as if he's waiting for someone. Someone like Harry maybe.

The second that thought enters Harry's brain, he forces it away. Gemma's elbow finds his ribs a second later as if she can read his mind.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because Louis is standing ten feet away from us and is clearly waiting for you."

Harry scowls. "Shut up. He is not."

"Is too," she sing-songs.

A grin eases its way onto Louis' face as soon as they step into his line of vision. "Hey, there you are! You're late."

"Better late than never," shrugs Gemma with a smirk. "C'mere, I've missed you." She pulls him into a tight hug, one that lasts for nearly a full minute, both standing there squeezing the life out of each other.

When they pull away, Louis gives Harry a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling and all, and Harry's stomach swoops as if he's on a roller coaster. "I'm glad you two came," he says.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Harry says.

"Sorry we're late though," Gemma adds.

"It's no problem. The lads are waiting for us though, if you two are ready to head in and eat," Louis says, gesturing to the door.

Harry tries to ignore the fact that Louis’ words are mainly directed at him, but it's hard. He gets that his friends like to look after him, and he doesn't necessarily mind it, but sometimes it can be frustrating. He likes to think that he isn't as fragile as they treat him. It's a nice illusion.

"Stop being silly," Gemma says, patting him on the cheek. "H and I are starving."

"What she said," smiles Harry.

Louis smacks Gemma's hand away and tilts his head in Harry's direction. Curiosity lingers his eyes. "Well then, after you."

Inside, the restaurant is crowded and loud. Harry shrinks inward a bit at the scene.

For about half a second, his brain is taken over with panic, alerting him to run in the opposite direction until he can find a place of quiet. But then he feels Louis' hand from behind squeezing his shoulder, and he exhales a low breath, treading after Gemma. He has to remind himself that this is nothing compared to the party last night, and as long as he allows his lungs to breathe and his brain to focus on his friends, he should be alright.

The lads are seated at a back table. Three spots are taken and three spots are free.

"Harry!" Niall lights up, an easy grin stretching across his face. "You came! Come sit next to me."

Smiling a shy smile, Harry sits down in the free seat beside Niall, who immediately throws an arm around his shoulders and kisses his head, just like he did last night. "How do you feel, H?" he asks, and Harry quirks his eyebrows, confused by his question. "Well you got pretty smashed last night didn't ya? At least that's what I hear."

"Not really," Harry says. "I mean, I tried," he admits, "but—"

"But apparently H here holds his beer quite well," Louis interrupts, settling down in the seat right across from Harry with blue shimmering eyes. "It's impressive."

Harry looks around the table, noting that Gemma is now seated in between Louis and Zayn, and Liam is on the other side of Niall. Harry is grateful that it's just them tonight; he would hate it if he had to spend another evening with Nick Grimshaw, or some other arse just like him.

They order three large pizzas and a few pints, and they laugh until their stomachs hurt, and so far things are going pretty okay, Harry thinks. After a while, he forgets his troubles and his heart weasels its way out of his throat and he almost feels calm, or close to, and it's nice.

Times like these remind Harry of why he loves his mates so much, and why he can't imagine living without them.

He may be distant at times, and he may go weeks without picking up his phone to speak to any of them, but at the end of the day he always comes back; he is never lost for long.

And for now it's nice to be back.

Throughout their meal, Louis' foot collides with Harry's under the table more times than he can possibly count. Harry has his suspicions that it's on purpose, and every time he shoots a look across the table at Louis, Louis sends him a coy smile back, and he's left wondering if this is Louis' way of flirting. And then he's thinking of ways to flirt back, but eventually lets out a low sigh when he comes up with none.

When there's nothing left but half nibbled crusts and bubbles remaining at the bottom of their glasses, Niall looks up at them and says, "Let's go back to the house and smoke."

Harry fidgets in his chair as they all agree, except for Gemma. "Sorry but I can't," she tells them. "I've got plans. But you should go, Harry. Stay the night if you want."

"Yeah," Louis pipes up. "Come hang out, H. It'll just be us."

"And maybe Ed," Liam adds, referring to their fourth roommate who is hardly ever around.

"Nah, I think he's out for the night," says Zayn.

All eyes turn to him, waiting—hoping maybe—that he'll agree. Inhaling a breath, Harry shakes his head a little. “No thanks. I think I'm just gonna head home and crash."

Surprisingly no one objects, minimizing the pressure weighing down on his chest.

On their way out the door, Gemma tugs at the sleeve of his coat and gives him a small smile when he startles. "Sorry," she murmurs. "Just — don't wait up for me, okay? Might not be home till late."

He wants to ask where she'll be and what she'll be doing, but he doesn't. He simply nods. "Sure," he says, "but be safe."

Gemma leans up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his cheek. "Always am."

She hugs the boys goodbye and sets off down the sidewalk, the opposite way which she and Harry came, and he watches her go, still wondering where she's off to. Perhaps he'll ask her tomorrow, and maybe she'll tell him.

"So," Louis says, popping up beside Harry. "Want some company tonight?"

Harry's throat tightens. He swallows past it. "You sure?" He quirks an eyebrow. "It's gonna be boring."

"Definitely. Besides," he says, hands tucked deep into his pockets, "we should probably talk, don't you think?"

Harry gives him a brief nod, and that's that. Louis whips around and announces that he's walking Harry home and that he'll see the boys later. Harry has a feeling he won't.

They trade goodbyes soon after, and he and Louis set off down the sidewalk toward Harry's flat.

The sky is clear and black, and the wind has picked up. A chill coils down Harry's spine, and he winces, tucking his arms into each other. "I bet it's gonna snow soon," he murmurs.

"You think so?" Louis cocks his head to look at the sky. "Seems a bit early for snow, but maybe. It's been said that we're in for a harsh winter."

"If only we lived elsewhere."

"Where would you live?" asks Louis. "If, you know, you could pick anywhere else in the world," he adds.

"Somewhere warm, I think. Somewhere near the sea, where the sun is always shining."

"I can see that," Louis says, nodding along. "Well I for one would like to live in Paris someday."

"Paris?" laughs Harry. "Must be all those French boys, am I wrong?"

"You are actually," Louis says with a smug smile. "It's more the culture, the language. I don't know," he shakes his head. "It's just, it's the City of Love, you know? And it's beautiful. Plus it's far enough from here to be content, but close enough to visit my family as much as I'd like."

Harry sweeps his curls out his eyes. "I didn't realize you were such a romantic."

Louis laughs, the sound light and airy and...bitter? "Yeah, well, I'd say you don't know a whole lot about me. Maybe we should change that."

Ignoring the way his heart stutters, Harry smiles. “Maybe we should."

They fall silent, but it isn't awkward. It's never awkward with Louis, Harry realizes, and he likes that a lot.

They keep a slow pace as they walk to Harry’s flat, and it takes them nearly fifteen minutes to reach his building. By the time they reach the door, they're both close to freezing. Harry slips the key into the lock and lets them in, and they kick off their shoes and shrug off their coats, hanging them on the coat rack Gemma insists they use.

"Want some tea?" Harry asks, crossing the room to switch the heat on.

"Sure," Louis says. "I can make it if you want. According to the others, I make the best cuppas.”

"Okay."

Louis' eyes practically shine as he passes Harry and strides into the kitchen.

Harry watches from the doorway, arms folded over his chest as Louis fills the kettle and flicks on the stove, before making his way over to the cupboard. He pulls down two mugs, both red and scrawled with black lettering that read as quotes from Harry Potter.

"Gemma will kill us if we break those," Harry warns him.

Louis shoots him a smirk from over his shoulder. "So don't break it then."

Harry rolls his eyes. "I didn't realize you knew your way around my kitchen so well."

"Harry," he says, turning to face him, "you know Gemma is one of my best friends."

"Of course," Harry says, "but—"

"Let's just say that I'm here a lot more than you know," Louis says, cutting him off.

"Oh."

Silence swallows them.

Harry's eyes bore into Louis' back, wondering just how many times Louis has snuck into this flat to hang out with Gemma, without Harry even realizing it. And he wonders why they ever thought that was necessary. Was Gemma really that concerned about Harry and Louis getting close? Because it seems a bit much, if you ask him.

"Were you that bad?" The question slips from Harry's mouth before he can stop it.

Louis' back tenses. "Yes," he says truthfully. "Sit," he gestures to the table, "and we'll talk about it."

Harry does as he's told, crossing into the kitchen and taking a seat at the old wooden table. Gemma painted it dark blue a while back but strips of paint are already peeling off the sides, revealing the original brown color it once was. He leans back against a white rickety chair, hoping the damned thing doesn't give out on him today, and waits for Louis to bring over their tea.

"I hope you like it," Louis murmurs, setting a cup down in front of him, before taking the seat across from Harry.

Harry brings the mug up to his nose and inhales the steam. "Smells delicious," he smiles. He blows on it a bit before taking a sip, not minding the fact that it does indeed burn his tongue. "Wow," he says.

"Yeah?" Louis asks.

Harry nods. "It's really good."

"Did you expect otherwise?"

"No," he says, making Louis laugh.

"Thanks, H." A small smile twitches at his lips. "So, what do you want to know?"

"I'm not sure," Harry says with a shrug. "I guess, mostly, I just want to know what happened last year, what changed you."

Louis looks down into the mug of his tea with a sad smile. "I'm not sure where to start."

"Maybe from the beginning?"

Harry watches as Louis paws at his fringe, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat.

"I've slept with a lot of people over the years, too many if I'm being honest," he tells Harry, who encourages him to go on with a nod of his head. "I know it's wrong to sleep with a person and never talk to them again, but I don't think I ever took into consideration how hurtful it can be to someone. I don't think I cared," he admits. "A few of them didn't really care either. They used me just as much as I used them. But there were others who did care, who felt betrayed and angry because of it, and I still carry the weight of that guilt around. I don't know if it'll ever go away, Harry."

Harry sets his tea down, eyes flicking up to meet Louis’, who’s face has gone pale. "How about we don't dwell on all that tonight, yeah?" he murmurs. "Seems like a lot for one person. Let's focus on last year when you left that person behind."

Louis inhales a shaky breath and nods. "Yeah, you're right," he says. "Okay, um, last year. I guess it all started when I met Nick… We were waiting for our interviews for that school radio gig I told you about. It was between us and some other guy, and, um," he licked over his lips, "Nick sat down next to me and started rattling off crap about himself and how I shouldn't even try for the interview because he knew he was the best candidate for the job. At first, I got pretty pissed and told him to fuck off, and then he started laughing and he told me he was kidding and asked where my sense of humor had gone."

"Yeah, that sounds like Nick," says Harry with a slight laugh.

Louis laughs, too, much to Harry's surprise. "Oh, yeah. Good ol' Grimmy. Always so fucking full of himself. Anyway, we became friends, kind of. Well, we were close," he shrugs. "He'd text me all the bloody time, even if we were in class, and as much as I hate to admit this, I kind of enjoyed the attention. I enjoyed being chased for once."

"So what happened?" Harry asks quietly.

Louis swallows. His fingers trace the rim of his mug, still not looking at Harry, as if he's ashamed. "One night he phoned me and asked if I'd come over and watch some films and get drunk with him because he'd had a shitty week. So I went, and we got wasted, and uh, we slept together,” he says with a shrug, “and I also realized that I had feelings for him...all in that same fucking night."

Harry winces. "That's rough."

"Yeah," Louis exhales, "it was an interesting evening to say the least."

"Did you tell him how you felt?"

“Unfortunately yes,” he nods, licking his lips. "I ended up blurting it out after—well, you know—and I mean, it wasn't like I had professed my undying love for him or anything. I just wanted a date, you know? But he freaked and tossed me out at like four a.m., and without my bloody shoes, too."

Harry's eyes widen. "So what'd you do?"

"I confronted him, like, two days later," Louis says, grimacing at the memory. “It was a disaster. By the time the scene was over, I had hot coffee all over my jumper and he'd had a chair thrown at him. It's too bad he ducked."

"Wow," says Harry, trying his best not to laugh. "So he didn't even like you back? Not even a little bit?"

"So he says, but I can't be too sure." Louis waves it off with his hand. "Lucky for me, I don't care anymore. I'm sure you noticed that Nick and I don't get on very well, and it's sorta always been that way, even when we were somewhat friends before all of that happened, so it's probably best we didn't get together. One of us might be in prison with murder charges by now if we had."

Harry's eyebrows furrow. "But if you hated each other so much, how'd a friendship form between you two?"

Louis raises his head, eyes flicking around the room, and he laughs again, but this time it's bitter and strange. Distant. "That's a good question, and I have no fucking idea. It just happened. It was like one day we hated each other and the next we bonded over making each other miserable. It just worked, even when it didn't. Does that make sense? Probably not," he shakes his head. "What can I say? It wasn't healthy or normal, but I liked him, stupidly enough."

"There's nothing wrong with that, you know? Liking a person is apparently standard in our world," Harry smiles, "in fact, if anything, between the two of us, you're way more normal than I am. Let's not forget that I can't even kiss someone."

A faint smile twitches at Louis' lips. "You truly are weird, Harry, but I kinda like it."

Harry sits up a little straighter in his chair and bites down on his lip to keep from smiling too big. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm,” hums Louis.

Harry’s cheeks bloom red, though he tries to ignore it. "So that's it?” he asks. “He tossed his coffee on you, you threw a chair at him, and now you're enemies who will never tolerate sharing the same space ever again?"

"Pretty much. Disappointed?" Louis smirks around the curve of his mug.

"Nope," he says, "more like intrigued."

"Intrigued?" Louis raises one eyebrow. "Glad my terrible love life entertains you."

"Shut up." Harry rolls his eyes. "I just mean that I'm intrigued, yeah, but only because I'm so..." he trails, searching his brain for the right word.

"Innocent?" offers Louis.

Harry deadpans. "Okay, really, shut up now. I was gonna say inexperienced."

Louis bites back a laugh. "You want to delete the word 'innocent' from the dictionary, don't you?"

"More than anything."

They laugh together and sip down some more tea before it gets too cold to finish. Then Louis looks up at him, tilts his head to the side and holds his stare until Harry starts to fidget beneath his gaze.

"You stare a lot," Harry murmurs.

"Sorry." Louis gives him a half smile. "You're nice to stare at."

Harry squirms in his chair again, eyes looking elsewhere, focusing on the window above the sink that's covered in dry water droplets and needs a good scrub.

"What is it? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Harry shakes his head. "I'm not uncomfortable."

Louis sighs. "You can tell me you know."

"No, I'm—I'm not, I swear. I'm flattered, actually. It's just, you make me feel weird."

"Weird in a good way?"

Harry swallows and looks into his blue eyes, nodding hesitantly. "Yeah, definitely a good way."

A grin takes a hold of Louis. "Well  _you_ , Harry Styles, scare me. A lot."

"You're crazy," says Harry.

"Possibly."

Thick silence falls around them. Harry swallows back the last of his tea and traces a fingertip over the rim, contemplating whether he should get up to put it in the sink or not.

Louis sits across from him, his own mug half full. The steam has disappeared, but he looks as though he couldn't care less that his tea has gone cold.

Harry wants to say something, but his nerves are eating away at his skin and bones, and when he catches Louis' eye every few moments, he feels like he can barely breathe suddenly, let alone talk.

He takes a few deep breaths through his nose until his heart quits rattling in his chest. Then he forces himself to stand, ignoring the way Louis' eyes continue to follow him. He goes over to the sink, sets his mug down, and peers through the window down at his street. A few cars race by along with a group of pedestrians breezing down the cobblestoned sidewalks.

"Harry," Louis' gentle voice finds his ears. "Can I ask you a question?"

Turning, Harry finds that Louis has twisted around in his seat and is studying him closely. Harry leans against the counter, arms folded over his chest, and nods. "Of course."

"Would you be willing to go on a proper date with me, maybe?"

Harry's heart stutters. "What?"

A sheepish smile pulls at Louis' lips. "You don't have to agree of course, but, I like you, Harry. You're different. And I would really like to take you out on a date if you give me the chance."

As sad as it is to admit, the idea of a date, even with Louis, has Harry's anxiety slowly unwinding like a thread pulling free from his spine.

“But— What about—? I can’t give you…” Harry’s words fade away. He can’t even say it, can’t admit to it. Instead, he stands frozen, eyes staring at the boy in front of him, his lungs suddenly not working the way they’re meant to.

The smile on Louis' face is wiped clean, a look of concern taking its place. Harry wonders if it's because his own face has suddenly paled from worry.

Worried that he’s going to have a panic attack, or he’s going to hyperventilate, or worse, he might even throw up as his stomach coils.

Worried that he’s going to ruin this for himself.

His worst fear comes true a moment later when acid bubbles up in his throat and burns the back of it, causing tears to sting his eyes. Unable to speak, Harry slams an open palm over his mouth and races off to the bathroom with high hopes that Louis will  _absolutely_  not follow him.

The door slams shut behind him and his knees crash to the tile floor, and he heaves and heaves and heaves until his stomach is empty and he's gasping for air and he's pretty sure his throat is actually on fire.

With a trembling hand, he reaches for the handle and flushes away the evidence, grimacing at the awful taste that's left lingering in his mouth.

Barely able to catch his breath, he sits still, head resting on the cool toilet seat. His throat not only burns but it feels as though it's slowly swelling shut. Rationally, he knows otherwise, knows that it's just his body's reaction when his anxiety overwhelms him, but it's one of the most uncomfortable feelings.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he wishes his anxiety away.

A soft knock taps at the door. "Harry?" Louis' tentative voice floats through the wood. "I brought you some water."

Harry doesn't know if he can bring himself to open the door, too ashamed. He doesn't want Louis to see him like this. So…so fragile. So easily shaken. But perhaps his company would be just as comforting as it was last night.

With a heavy exhale, Harry pulls himself up and takes a quick second to splash some water on his face. After he's rinsed his face and mouth, he pulls open the door with a look of hesitance.

Louis smiles sadly. "Want a cuddle?"

Harry nods, chin quivering as he takes the glass of cold water being offered to him. "I'm sorry," he rasps out. "I'm being pathetic."

"Oh, shush. The last thing you are is pathetic, H. Now, c'mon, love, let's get you into bed, yeah? You probably just need to rest." Louis slings an arm around his shoulders and guides him to his bedroom. “I think the last twenty four hours have been a bit too much for you."

Harry sniffles, holding back tears. "Louis?"

They pause in the doorway of Harry's bedroom. "Yeah, darling?”

Eyes glance nervously to the floor while Harry all but mumbles, "I've never been on a date before."

"Yeah," Louis lets out a gentle laugh, "I gathered that."

"I want to, though," he says. "With you, I mean."

Louis’ eyes widen. "Are you sure, Harry? You don't have to agree if you aren't comfortable with the idea."

Harry leans further into him without realizing. "No, really, I want to. But what about my issue?"

Louis squeezes his shoulder. "Which one are you referring to?"

"That's not funny."

"You're right," Louis amends. "I'm sorry. But honestly, H, I don't think you should fret over all that. We'll just take it slow, okay? Really, really slow."

"Seems unfair though," Harry points out.

Louis puts a hand to his chest and scoffs. "Are you kidding me? Haven't you heard? I'm celibate now," he gives a pleasant smirk, one that makes Harry roll his eyes.

"You're impossible."

“Yes, well, you bloody love me for it.” Louis smiles — no, he beams, smile so bright it shines like the fucking sun.

Harry chews on his lip, staring at the beautiful boy who wants him.

He thinks of his struggles with dating and intimacy, and he knows that jumping into a relationship with Louis is a huge risk. They’re too different, too incompatible, and the chances of them staying together are small, but the thing is, there’s no one else Harry would rather try this with.

And even if they fall apart and never speak to each other again after three months, or six, or twelve, Harry trusts that feeling this way about Louis, and chasing after it, no matter how scary it all feels, is worth all the pain the future might hold.

So much can go wrong.

So much is against them.

But Harry knows better than to run from this, knows that he has to at least try, if not for anyone but himself.

So he ignores the knot in his throat, the tremble of his skin, the jitters ramping through his body, and this fear that he’s slowly drowning under the heavy weight of his own thoughts. And he smiles, and exhales, “Yeah, maybe I do.”

And he thinks,  _I can get through this_.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay wow thanks for being awesome and reading this. Kudos and comments make me v happy.
> 
> Also I think I'm gonna write another part to this sometime soon, because I feel like there's a lot more left to say and their story isn't quite over, so stay tuned for that!
> 
> [@loviedovielou](http://loviedovielou.tumblr.com/) on tumblr :)


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